


Dirt And Clouds Can Love Too

by Carter_Vincent



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 08:45:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6111223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carter_Vincent/pseuds/Carter_Vincent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the 1840's, the Donovans were a very wealthy family and had recently gotten an expansion in their business so needed a bit more property. It was Clyde's birthday and his father believed he was finally old enough to get his own piece of that "property". So they travel to a nearby auction- which turns out to be a small auction with only six people for sale. An old man, a husband and wife (who get separated), two children, and a boy that looks to be about Clyde's age; because the boy looks to be the healthiest of the group, even with the whip marks that scattering his back. Mr Donovan bought Token for a high price then left with his son and the newest slave.<br/>Token was Clyde's personal slave, so he doubled as his butler basically. Clyde had him dress him in the morning and evenings, and occasionally bathe him while he wasn't feeling well. Token, being a very good slave and genuinely enjoying his time with the American teen, never complained. One evening, while his father on a business trip, Clyde was feeling lonely so told Token to kiss him- which he did after some hesitation. The next time they were alone, they went a bit..further. That’s when things really went south.<br/>(This story is no longer being updated!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirt And Clouds Can Love Too

**Author's Note:**

> Oops, long summary. Yeah, I love history and the era of slavery and civil war was always my favourite time to learn of. So, of course, I had to write a fanfiction of it with one of my favourite ships~

The year was 1847, the century of slavery for America. Whites were gods and blacks were property. Well, in the south, at least. The more ‘property’ you had, the more important you were, that’s how things were run then. So, of course, Roger Donovan, the owner of a very successful oil plant, needed all the property he could. A huge mansion, with god knows how many acres of land surrounding it. He had maids and servants galore, and even more slaves. The slaves weren’t allowed in the house, obviously, but he was at least nice enough to have a few huts on the outskirts of his land for them to sleep in. Though, hardly enough to fit them all. That didn’t stop him from getting more by far. Every time there was an auction nearby, he packed up and left for a couple days and returned for a handful more of slaves.  
That what was happening now, but this time, he actually decided to bring his son, Clyde, along with him. He’d noticed that Clyde didn’t really have any friends so he was going to bring Clyde along since he had been looking bored all day lately. Besided, it was his seventeenth birthday. Once they arrived and the servant had their horse tied to a post, he got out with Clyde and went to the crowd. Given their social status, people cleared out of the way for them so they could get right to the front of it all. There were six slaves being sold. An old man that looked near death, what looked like a couple, a middle aged one, the lady was appeared to be pregnant, two children, both boys, and on the very end was a sixteen-seventeen looking male.  
The teen boy had a cold expression while the rest looked worried. He was scowling straight ahead, as if the crowd wasn’t even there, hardly flinching when rock was thrown his way. It missed his head by couple inches. He was in tan pants that had been torn into uneven shorts, one leg going above his knee, and the other going just below it. There were holes in the pants but not as badly as for most slaves. He didn’t have a shirt on, either. His chest was clean of scars. He was well build. Overall, he seemed to be a better off slave, probably had a good owner before this.  
The children went as a pair, they sold for two dollars since there was two of them after all; the old man went for five cents to the same buyer. The assumed pregnant wife went fifty cents and the husband went to a different buyer for a dollar fifty. However, man put up a fight, trying to get back to his wife and was shot. The crowd, and the teenage male, were unfazed. The wife was in hysterics but was dragged to her new owner. Now with the stage to himself, the “boy” (as the auctioneer called him) moved to the centre of the stage.  
“I want that one for you,” Mr Donovan said quietly, glancing at his son. The auctioneer started calling out prices but he interrupted, “Have the boy turn around!” He called, stepping forward, “I’d like to see his back.” The crowd agreed.  
“Well, you heard ‘em, turn around!” The auctioneer gave him a shove on his shoulder. He glanced at the auctioneer then the crowd. He gave what might have been a sigh through his nose and turned around. His back had scars, clearly from whipping. But only six, seven at most. “And how’d you come to get those beauties?” The man asked with a sneer.  
The slave turned back around, facing the crowd. “My little sister, Nicole. She was very ill with my first master. I stole some extra food for her.”  
“Well, wasn’t that foolish of you?” The auctioneer, along with most of the crowd, laughed, “And where is your little sister now?”  
“She’s dead, sir. Starved to death.”  
Clyde’s dad hummed and suddenly put his hand in the air, “I’ll take him for four dollars!” He shouted.  
Everyone, even the slave, seemed more than shocked. “Four dollars!?” The auctioneer repeated, “For him? Are you sure, mister..mister../Donovan/?” He looked faint.  
“Quite. Come on, boy, get down here.” Roger crossed his arms over his chest.  
Once the man with the keys unlocked the slave’s chains, he walked up to Mr Donovan. He glanced at Clyde then back at his father, “Thank you, sir, but if I may ask..Why would you pay so much for me?”  
“You shan’t question me, boy, but I will tell you. My son has been lonesome lately, maybe he’ll enjoy his own piece of the property. How’s that, Clyde?” Roger smiled lightly at the brunet.  
Clyde looked up at his father with a blank expression then at the taller, dark male in front of him with owl eyes. He was always told his eyes were big, which he always got annoyed with since he was self conscious of his weight. The slave just stared back at him, with the same cold expression but it didn’t bother Clyde. Looking back up at his father, Clyde nodded his head silently.  
“Fantastic! Happy birthday, Clyde!” Mr. Donovan slapped Clyde on the back, causing him to fall forward a step and almost lose his glasses from his face. Looking back at the slave, Roger frowned, “Do you have a name, boy?”  
The slave shifted some in an almost uncomfortable manner, “Nay, sir. I lost it with my last master and I seem to have forgotten.”  
“How many times have you been owned?”  
“I was born into one house, then around the age of four,” the slave noticed that Clyde was gaping at him, making his words falter slightly as he quickly returned his look to Mr. Donovan, “I was sold off- And again when I was ten. This is my fourth trade.”  
Mr. Donovan nodded and smiled at his son, “Look at that, you even get to name it.”  
“Yeah, that’s…” Clyde looked elsewhere, “Great.”  
“Well, it’s time we head back to the manner. Come now,” Mr. Donovan turned and headed back to their carriage. His slave and Clyde shared a glance before following, the taller a few paces behind Clyde as they walked. The ride back home, the slave sat up with one of the slave’s from the manner while Clyde and his father sat inside.

**Author's Note:**

> Long summary, short first chapter. Ahaha--


End file.
